Second Chances
by pinkcupcake81
Summary: After escaping an abusive marriage, Anna takes her daughter and finds herself at Downton Abbey, working alongside Mr Bates. AU - modern day.
1. Chapter 1

**AN - Hi everyone, my name's Pinkcupcake81 and I'm a rabid Downton Abbey fan. I've been reading lots of the amazing Anna and Bates fics around here and have been mulling over the idea of writing my own for the last month or so. I've not written any fics for a very long time so I'm quite nervous about it but I just adore Anna and Bates together and really wanted to try writing again. Any feedback is most gratefully received because I'm extremely rusty! **

**This fic is decidedly AU and is set in the modern day. Bates doesn't appear in the first chapter but I promise he'll make an appearance in Chapter 2. There is some discussion of domestic violence during this chapter however it's not graphic or strongly written. **

**Second Chances **

**Chapter 1 - The Final Straw**

**Anna's POV**

Silence reigned in the little Ford Fiesta except for the squeak of the windscreen wipers sweeping away the rain as we crawled north up the M1. It had been over an hour since either one of us had spoken; she silent with anger, me worried that anything else I said would provoke her further. Subtly I cast a glance to my left to where she sat slouched against the fogged up window pane; absent-mindedly scribbling little patterns against the glass, wilfully ignoring me, with her iPod turned up full-blast to whatever horrendous music suited her eleven-year-old angst best.

It had not been a good day. Perhaps that was putting it mildly but I'd never been one for over-dramatising a situation. That morning I'd packed up everything I could fit in my battered little car, collected my unsuspecting daughter from school, and left the world I'd known for over eleven years for complete uncertainty. It wasn't a decision I'd made lightly, it was something I'd mulled over for a while but the events of the previous night had forced me to take a long, hard look at my marriage and the treatment I'd found myself on the receiving end of, and make a hasty decision.

Noticing darkness beginning to fall, I switched on my sidelights and took a quick glance at the clock on the dashboard. It was nearly four, he'd not be home from work for a couple of hours yet; plenty of time for us to complete our journey northwards and arrive in Ripon. We'd left Guildford shortly before lunchtime and despite my fears that neither my nerves nor my Fiesta would make it up the motorway, we were not far from our intended destination. I hadn't really considered where we were going very carefully, but heading back north to where I'd grown up just seemed like a logical decision. My marriage wasn't the kind of situation I could extract myself from carefully; there was no chance of me telling Peter quietly and firmly that Holly and I were leaving and that we'd be staying down the road and yes he could take Holly at the weekend and on holidays. There was no chance of that happening because of what had been building up over the past several years and had bubbled over the previous night in an incident which had frightened me to the core.

Peter hadn't started out a violent man. He'd started out as the man who called me 'Princess' and held my hand protectively in his whenever we walked down the street. He'd started out as my knight in shining armour when, at age nineteen, I'd found myself alone in the world after my mother's death. He'd put his arms around me and told me he was there to look after me and that I'd never be alone. Holly had arrived suddenly and quite unexpectedly, and three months shy of my twentieth birthday I'd found myself a wife and mother in a seemingly blissful domestic setup.

The rain began to dissipate and I switched off the wipers, taking a quick glance at my scribbled directions to check the exit number for the motorway was correct, before signalling to pull off.

"Not long now," I chirped to Holly, who merely cast her eyes towards me witheringly before returning to ignoring me once again. Part of me could understand why she was so angry, she didn't fully understand my reasons for uprooting her and I was as yet unwilling to explain the extent of the problems between myself and her father that I'd hidden from her. I'd always felt children were to be protected and that whatever was going on between me and Peter wasn't for Holly's eyes or ears. She'd had a brief glimpse into it the previous night as Peter's anger at her adolescent rebellion had bubbled over, only my death-grip on his wrist stopping him from striking her across the face. I'd sent her to her room immediately and borne the brunt of it myself; the bruises across my ribs not nearly so painful as the thought that my husband could hurt my baby.

So that night as he'd snored beside me, I'd crept into the bathroom, looking up directions on my iPhone and messaging Gwen to ask her if we could come to stay. I'd not been able to give her much information, just that I'd explain when we arrived and ask her not to tell Peter we were coming if he contacted her. I hadn't slept for the entire night; instead I'd lain formulating a plan of action towards our escape. Peter had woken in the morning utterly oblivious; it wasn't as though anything normally happened the day after he'd shown me who was boss. I'd let him kiss my cheek and handed him his sandwiches for work like it was any other day. Then once Holly had left to walk to school and I'd waved him off to work, I'd gone into action mode – packing everything I thought we could possibly need and wondering how I could fit eleven years of our lives into a Ford Fiesta. I'd found myself remarkably calm; it wasn't as though I'd never considered leaving him before, I'd just always felt it better for Holly that we stayed. The sudden realisation that by staying I was putting her at risk had wiped away my stupidity and given me a sense of clarity and purpose I'd long since needed.

Driving carefully through the centre of Ripon, following my scrawled directions as carefully as I could, I found the address easily enough, stopping the car in front of Gwen's new-build house. I'd never seen it before; we hadn't kept in touch as often since she'd moved back north but as soon as I realised I needed help she'd been the first person I'd turned to. My best friend since high school, she was the one person I knew I could utterly rely on. I hadn't even needed to ring the doorbell, we'd scarcely left the car when she'd flown out of the house, reaching the pavement and wrapping her arms around me.

"Are you okay?"

Three words were all it took for my carefully controlled façade to crumble and tears to take hold of me.

"Let's get you inside," she clucked softly, taking my bag from me and ruffling Holly's hair with her free hand. "God, you're getting so tall, you're not far off being the same height as your mum, though she always was a short-arse," she grinned at her, and as Holly reluctantly smiled back I was relieved to see that my daughter's anger didn't extend towards my friend.

"I've got dinner on, you'll both be starving, let's just get you inside and sorted out and then we can eat."

An hour later with a stomach comfortably full of spaghetti and Holly contentedly entertaining Gwen's three year old, Lucy, we finally had time to talk properly.

"Anna, why didn't you come earlier?" Gwen's face was full of gentle concern but I couldn't quite meet her gaze.

"I know I should have. I'm a crap mother; I can't believe I allowed myself to put her in that position."

She reached gently across the sofa and took my hand in hers, "No you're not, and don't ever let me hear you say that again."

"Honestly, it's been going on for years, it just started off so slowly that it felt like it was nothing – a slap here, a kick there; it increased so gradually that I never realised how bad it had got, there was never a point where I thought I couldn't take it anymore. And I always felt that somehow I was doing the right thing by Holly by staying. I kept telling myself that I'd grown up with a single parent and that I didn't want the same thing for her."

"What happened last night?" she tucked her red hair behind her ear and sipped her coffee thoughtfully.

I lowered my voice further although I knew she couldn't hear me from the other side of the room where she and Lucy were playing noisily with the computer.

"Holly's been getting a bit mouthier lately, nothing massive, just the usual eleven year old attitude. She normally saves it for me, but Peter got it last night and he just totally lost it with her. Honestly Gwen, if I hadn't grabbed him…" my breath caught in my throat and tears stung at my eyes at the memory of the uncontrolled anger in my husband's face as he'd looked at my defiant daughter.

"You've done the right thing," Gwen assured me, "And you're welcome to stay here as long as you need to. I told Mark this morning you'd be coming and he understands. He's away on business in London at the moment anyway so he won't be back until the weekend."

"I just don't know what to do," I shook my head, "I mean, what am I qualified to do? After I had Holly I wanted to go to college or uni, get a decent job, but Peter was insistent that I stayed home with her. I've done nothing but look after her and the house for the past eleven years, what kind of a job can I get with that experience?"

"Try not to worry about that for now. Just take the next few days to talk to Holly and sort things out. We'll get you sorted with something, you just need to get used to the idea that you've left Peter and that you're safe." She reached out and encircled me in her arms, and despite the fact I knew she was being hopelessly and unrealistically optimistic, it did make me feel a bit better.

"Thanks Gwen, honestly I can't tell you how much I appreciate this."

**Thanks for reading! I'd love to know what you thought. I've started the next chapter and will hopefully have it up by Sunday night although I think most of my writing will be over weekends.**

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	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Thanks to everyone who read the first chapter. I've had a go at a second chapter and will hopefully have a third one up later in the week. We finally meet Mr Bates in this chapter!**

**Second Chances**

**Chapter 2 - An Interview**

"Mum, I'm bored, can I pleeeease have my phone back?" Holly begged for at least the thirtieth time that day.

"Holly I've told you, I'll get you another one just as soon as I've got some work sorted out," I promised, still feeling a little guilty that I'd taken it off her but knowing that it would be far too easy for Peter to contact her and find out our whereabouts if she had access to it. He'd been calling my mobile incessantly for four days until I'd finally given in and texted him to say that I'd left him and that unless he wanted me to go to the police and have him convicted for assault then he should stop calling me. It seemed to have done the trick for the time being and I'd not received any other messages begging me to go home on my voicemail, but I wasn't confident that he wouldn't try any other tricks to find out where we were if he was able to contact Holly.

Holly and I were at least on speaking terms although she was still resentful towards me for uprooting her from Guildford. Despite my initial belief that I should protect her from what had been happening between me and her father, she seemed to have gained some sense of what had been going on between us. I don't know if I was stupid to believe she could remain totally oblivious to the violence in her own house, or if Gwen had had a quiet word with her to explain that she needed to go easy on me, but her attitude over the past day or two had been considerably softer.

"What are you doing?" she enquired, leaning her head in her hands against the breakfast bar I was sitting at, twiddling her long, dark hair around her finger; she'd got that from her dad – that and her height – everything else about her, from her eyes to her figure, was a carbon copy of me.

"I…" I paused dramatically, "am looking for a job."

"What kind of job?" she meandered around my side of the breakfast bar, slipping her arms around me from behind and resting her chin against my shoulder to view the newspaper.

"Something that requires no experience and lets me spend lots of time with you," I turned my head to kiss her cheek and smiled as she fought hard to contain the withering look she'd normally give me for such a sentimentally uncool display of affection.

"What about that one?" she pointed towards an advert for a receptionist in a law firm.

"I need at least two years' experience and an admin' qualification."

"Oh… that one?"

"Holly, since when I have had an HGV license and experience in the haulage industry?"

As much as she was being silly it was a relief that she seemed to be speaking to me again.

"Hey, look at that one!"

"No more jokes Hols,"

She reached over my shoulder and pointed, "No seriously, look, I think you could do this."

I followed her finger and read the advert more closely.

"Housekeeper required," she read purposefully, "Downton Abbey requires a live-in housekeeper to co-ordinate domestic staff and ensure the smooth running of the property. No particular experience necessary although good organisational and domestic skills would be valuable. Please telephone or email John Bates at the following number/email address for more information."

"Hmm, that might be a possibility," I nodded, "Downton Abbey's not far from here."

"What is it? Is an abbey not a place for monks or something?" she seemed confused.

"Well, sometimes yes, but this is a big fancy house. I think it belongs to Lord Somebody but I doubt he'll live there anymore. I think it's open to the public to visit – it was when I was at school anyway, I remember we went for a visit when we were studying the Victorians. They had some of the rooms set up so you could see what life was like then. It was really cool."

"Wow, sounds exciting," she deadpanned, "and not at all lame and old and boring."

"Well, my dear," I patted her cheek teasingly, "if it doesn't work out then you won't need to worry, and if it does, then it's all your own fault because you pointed it out to me!"

Three hours later I was in the car heading towards Downton Abbey after having spoken to a somewhat gruff man on the phone, enquiring about the job. He'd sounded vaguely irritated to have been interrupted from whatever he'd been doing but had conceded that I should come for a short interview later that day to see if I'd be suitable. From the sound of his voice I didn't think he'd received many enquiries although he didn't sound particularly hopeful that I'd be what he was looking for.

After a short panic that I had nothing to wear to an interview, we'd bundled Holly and Lucy into the back of the car and found ourselves in the changing rooms of Primark; Holly and Gwen casting a critical eye over the various sensible outfits I could find to put together for under twenty quid.

"Too long,"

"Too frumpy,"

"Too I've-not-had-a-job-and-had-to-run-to-Primark-to-find-something-to-wear."

I rolled my eyes and settled on a knee-length black dress which fit snugly without looking too tight, adding a smart black cardigan and a pair of sensible black heels. I couldn't be choosy, it was Primark and I wanted to spend as little as I could get away with. If the job didn't come off we had plenty of other things I needed to save for.

As the car bumped up the long driveway towards the house I could feel my stomach churning at the thought of the interview. I'd never had any experience in the world of work, and the thought of explaining to a random stranger why I'd come to Ripon and why I was applying for the job was fairly daunting. Not to mention the fact that even if I was offered the job he might have second thoughts when I told him I had a daughter in tow.

Smoothing my black dress down and taking a deep breath I found the main trade entrance to the building and rang the bell marked 'enquiries' beside what looked to be the reception desk. I had waited several minutes and was contemplating whether it would be rude to ring the bell again when the noise of uneven footsteps against the tiled floor alerted me to the presence of a man from the corridor behind me.

"Good afternoon, you must be Miss Smith," (I had found myself providing my maiden name on the phone), a voice from behind called.

I turned to be greeted by the man I had spoken to on the phone.

"Yes," I smiled nervously, reaching out to shake his extended hand, "pleased to meet you Mr Bates."

He nodded and coughed somewhat uncomfortably as I smiled at him, making eye contact briefly.

"Follow me please," he offered, gesturing towards the direction he'd come from and leading me back towards his office. I took the opportunity to glance at him once he had started walking; he was a tall man, broad-shouldered – maybe in his mid-forties though clearly still powerfully built. He used a cane to support his walking and had a slight limp though it didn't detract from his air of authority. Dressed smartly in a suit with his dark hair combed neatly back from his forehead, he gave off an air of calm respectability yet his face remained quite impassive and stern.

"Please come in, take a seat," he gestured through the door which he held open for me as I tried my best not to gawp at my unfamiliar surroundings.

"So Miss Smith," he began, carefully lowering himself into the chair on the opposite side of the large oak desk which seemed to fill the whole office.

"Anna, please," I interrupted, still a little uncomfortable that I'd not been entirely forthcoming about my surname.

"Anna," he sounded a little uncomfortable calling me by my first name, there was just something endearingly old-fashioned about him. "I'll tell you a little about the job and then you can tell me some more about yourself. You'll be working for Lord Grantham; Downton Abbey has been in his family for generations, although he and his wife spend the majority of the year at their home in London whilst I manage the Abbey for them in their absence. It's technically a housekeeper position but the job is quite varied depending on the time of year and what's going on in the house. You'd be responsible for any of the seasonal workers we have; organising gardener contracts, cleaning staff and guides during the tourist season. We also have a lot of corporate events which take place within the Abbey and you'd be the point of contact for customers with enquiries regarding this type of thing; we also have quite a lot of weddings during the summer."

"That sounds interesting," I tried to sound as enthusiastic as I could to mask my worry at the thought of managing so many different things at once when my main experience was cooking and cleaning for a family of three.

"It's a varied job Miss Smith," he'd reverted to protocol again and I couldn't help but smile, "Our current housekeepers Mr and Mrs Carson are both to retire; they've worked here for many, many years but it's time for them to enjoy their retirement now. There would be a small period of over-lap time if you're successful, just for Mrs Carson to show you the ropes."

"Do Mr and Mrs Carson live in the Abbey?" I was keen to find out if the mentioned 'live-in' part of the advert still held.

"Yes, as do I. You'd be expected to live at the Abbey as well if you're to take the position. Much of the work which goes on here can take place at any time of the day or night so we're all on-call as it is for whenever we're needed."

"I didn't mention it on the phone but I feel I should now. I have a daughter and obviously she'd need to be with me. Would that cause any difficulty for me to take the job?"

"How old is she? We can't very well have small children running around while you're trying to work."

I shook my head, "Oh she's eleven, she'd be at school during the day anyway and she's quite mature for her age."

He nodded thoughtfully, "That sounds fine, an older child shouldn't prove a problem. There would be boundaries she'd be expected to keep to obviously, but I trust you'd be able to explain these to her."

"Certainly Mr Bates," I agreed, wondering how easy it would be to tame Holly's rebellious streak in such a location.

"Well…" he paused, "Miss Smith, I'm a plain-speaking man; I do not wish to deceive you into thinking there are several other applicants and that I need time to consider your application. You seem like a nice young woman, you're well-spoken and presentable and frankly I'm not in the position to take my time over this decision. Mr and Mrs Carson plan to leave at the end of the month and I'm anxious to fill the position as quickly as possible. I would therefore like to offer you the job."

I couldn't help but give a little yelp of excitement at being caught so off-guard. I'd been sure he'd have several other people to consider. His serious demeanour flickered just for a second at my excitement and just for a moment I thought I saw a hint of a smile crinkling at the corner of his eyes.

"I'll take that as a yes then?"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N - Well I've finally got another chapter up. Many thanks to the lovely people who reviewed my story - it really motivated me to get writing again knowing that there are people reading! **

**Chapter 3 – Moving In**

"Holly, be careful, that's got breakable stuff in it!" I warned, watching Holly drag a box, non-too carefully, across the gravel towards the door.

"Yeah, yeah…" she muttered, taking absolutely no notice; her new-found understanding and pleasantness had not extended past two days of Gwen having spoken to her and she was back to her usual pre-teen stroppiness.

I puffed out my cheeks as I inspected the number of boxes still remaining in the car. It had seemed like a good idea at the time to pack as much as I could, knowing that I wouldn't be able to go back to the house later, but at that particular moment, with the knowledge of the number of stairs and passageways leading to our rooms, I kind of wished I'd just taken a suitcase and ran. I'd already made about three trips and was just about to push the door open with my back when the weight I was carrying was lifted from behind me.

"Allow me, Miss Smith."

I glanced up, surprised to find Mr Bates beside me, having taken the box from my arms.

"Oh you didn't have to…" I protested, looking at his knee and thinking he shouldn't really be carrying anything heavy, then noticing I'd been caught staring. "I just mean…"

He grimaced, though obviously not from carrying the box, "If you're referring to my leg Miss Smith, I can assure you; I can manage."

"Of course…" I replied, flustered, but he'd already taken the box and disappeared inside the building, leaving me embarrassed.

I grabbed another lighter box from the car, dumping a couple of plastic bags on top and making my way back inside. We'd been allocated rooms on the first floor and I could still scarcely believe how nice they were. Mrs Carson had let us in earlier in the day, explaining that they'd once been guest quarters. She'd said that for many years she and Mr Carson had stayed in what had once been servants' quarters but with the family staying in London most of the time, there was no longer call for guest rooms and the servants' quarters had been turned into store cupboards.

Reaching my room I dropped the box onto the floor and gazed around my surroundings once more; it was certainly going to take some getting used to. The room was still decidedly old-fashioned with heavily patterned wallpaper and ornate, dark wooden furniture; but it had been well-kept and was exceedingly luxurious compared with the bedroom I'd shared with Peter. A door to one side led into a bathroom with an old claw-footed bath, and the large bed towards the centre of the main wall reminded me of something a princess would sleep in in a fairy tale. My favourite part of the room however, was the large window overlooking the estate to the rear of the house; the view was beyond stunning.

"Knock, knock!" came Mrs Carson's gentle Scottish lilt from the other side of the door, before she pushed it open. "I just thought I'd come and see how you were settling in."

"Oh we're getting there," I smiled, "I can still hardly believe we'll be living here."

"You'll get used to it in time, dear," she nodded, casting a quick glance over the bombsite I'd created in the corner of the room with all the boxes and bags, "And I'm sure you'll have those things put away in no time at all."

We were interrupted by another knock at the door and Mrs Carson opened it to find Mr Bates on the other side.

"I'll just put these here, please excuse me," he bustled into the room somewhat uncomfortably, adding the boxes to the pile and making a hasty exit without any eye-contact.

"I'm afraid I might have offended Mr Bates," I admitted to Mrs Carson, "I implied that perhaps he wouldn't be able to manage the boxes. I knew it was a mistake as soon as I said it."

She pursed her lips together and nodded sagely, "Yes, he is a little tetchy when it comes to that leg Anna. He's a proud man, and you won't find a better one, but he's not one for pity or sympathy. He just gets on with things and woe-betide anyone who tries to imply that he can't manage. Still…" she patted my shoulder consolingly, "I wouldn't worry about having made too bad an impression, his bark's worse than his bite, he's a softie at heart and I should know; I've worked with him long enough."

Dinner was a relaxed affair in a surprisingly modern kitchen on the ground floor. Mrs Carson had explained that the original kitchens had been ripped out in the sixties to make way for other facilities; a great shame in her mind, though she wasn't sorry to be using a gas cooker instead of an Aga.

The five of us crowded round the small kitchen table, conversing a little stiffly as we worked our way through Mrs Carson's shepherd's pie. I noticed Holly picking at it fussily and cast a warning glance across the table; I didn't want her offending Mrs Carson on our first day.

"So Holly," Mr Carson smiled, setting his knife and fork neatly across his plate, "How are you settling into Downton?"

She shrugged, "S'alright I suppose."

I cringed inwardly at her rudeness, "You like your bedroom, don't you Holly?"

"Yeah it's nice," she mumbled, responding to my non-too subtle kick under the table. "It's really big."

Mr Carson seemed mollified at this, "Ahh it should certainly take some getting used to young Holly! Much different to…" he struggled to remember, "Where was it you said you were from again?"

"Guild…"

"Swindon!" I shot over the top of her before she could finish her reply. She looked at me, puzzled across the table but kept her mouth shut, realising that for some reason we weren't providing the truth. I hadn't wanted to let Mr Bates know the real reason I'd applied for the job; it just seemed a little too dramatic and he didn't look the type to want to employ someone escaping a volatile relationship. It was much easier to say nothing until I'd come up with a better explanation.

"You'll be tired," I added, nodding towards Holly, "Big day for you tomorrow!"

"Holly's starting at the local primary school," Mrs Carson explained to Mr Bates and her husband. "I'm sure you'll make lots of friends in no time at all dear. You'll be able to bring them back for tea when you've settled in. I'm sure everyone will be interested to hear you live at Downton Abbey!"

Holly smiled sarcastically and I prayed the others couldn't read her expression. I knew she had no intention of telling the other kids where she lived. She was already worried about being, in her own words, a freak from the south, who'd arrived in Year 6 three months before the kids were about to leave for secondary school. I knew it'd be hard for her; they'd already have their own friendship groups, cliques; girls could be horrendous to each other as eleven year olds. I'd told her not to worry though; despite her behaviour with me she was generally sweet as pie when it came to school and had always been popular in her class. It'd just take a bit of getting used to and if it meant that I was going to get it in the neck for uprooting her and forcing her to live in such unfamiliar surroundings, then I'd just have to take the heat for a bit.

With Holly upstairs and Mr Bates and Mr Carson away to finish off various jobs around the house for the night, it fell to Mrs Carson and me to do the washing up. She was a kind woman; there was something about her which reminded me of the vague memories I had of my grandmother and I was warming to her very quickly. We'd chatted easily as we did the washing up and I could tell she wanted to find out a little about my background without obviously prying. I decided my best course of action was to deflect the conversation towards someone else.

"So how long has Mr Bates worked here?" I ventured, grabbing a glass from the drying rack.

She had to think for a moment, "Oh a while dear, maybe five years? I have known him for a very long time though. He and his Lordship go back a long way."

"Were they at school together?"

"Oh no," she shook her head, "Mr Bates and his Lordship have completely different backgrounds. I believe Mr Bates has a normal working-class background. They met in the army. They both served in Iraq together in the early nineties."

"Is that where Mr Bates hurt his leg?"

She shook her head, seemingly annoyed at herself, "It's not my story to tell Dear, I've already said too much. Mr Bates is a very private man; I've known him a long time, but in some ways I don't think I'll ever really know him well. Perhaps he'll tell you a little more about himself when you're better acquainted…"

"Of course, I understand, I don't want to pry." I admitted, putting the last of the crockery away in the cupboard. Of course, Mrs Carson's reticence to tell me about Mr Bates' past had had exactly the opposite effect; now my interest was decidedly piqued. I couldn't help but wonder if it wasn't just me who was hiding secrets.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Hi everyone! Sorry it's taken me so long to get another chapter up. I found it quite hard to get moving on this one, so I've sat and tried to write a more detailed plan; fingers crossed it gets me writing a bit faster! I'm going into hospital next week for an operation and will be off work for a little while so I'm hoping I can use the time to get some writing done! Many, many thanks to all the lovely people who have reviewed so far; the encouragement means a great deal to me, so thank you! **

**Second Chances - Chapter 4**

Ripon was stupid, the North was stupid, _I_ was stupid. That was my daughter's assessment of our move after her first day at school and just for a moment I considered the thought that I'd maybe preferred it when she'd been giving me the silent treatment. She'd sulked and refused to answer any of my questions about her first day as we'd driven back to Downton, instead giving me a litany of reasons why we should return to Guilford and why my selfish decision was ruining her life forever. Slamming the car door for good measure as I parked the car, she flounced off towards the entrance, leaving me behind to bring in the groceries I'd picked up for our dinner.

"Trouble?" Mrs Carson greeted me, as she packed the last of her and Mr Carson's belongings into the van they'd hired to help them move.

"Just the usual," I smiled wanly, "I'm the worst mother ever."

She shook her head knowingly, "She'll come around eventually, you know what girls are like at that age."

"So, are you all packed?" I changed the subject, nodding towards the van.

She nodded contentedly, "Oh yes dear, Charlie's just bringing the last few bags down and we'll be out of your hair! I expect you'll be wanting to get on and get used to the place without us cluttering it up and following you around."

"Not at all," I smiled sincerely. Mrs Carson really had been a god-send since we'd arrived. It felt strangely like having a mother around again; an idea I had found strangely comforting. "I'm not going to know what to do without you! Who am I to call when I've misplaced something or can't remember where an item's supposed to be filed?"

"You'll be fine Dear," she laughed, "And don't forget, you'll have Mr Bates to help you."

"I'm not sure how much Mr Bates will enjoy having me around making mistakes all over the place when he's used to you, Mrs Carson."

She smirked knowingly, "Oh I daresay you have other attributes he'll find more appealing… Besides, I think the shake-up will do him some good. It's not a healthy environment; him stuck here with only two pensioners for company. You will look after him though, won't you?" she reached out to hold my hand somewhat imploringly, "I mean, he's a good man. He may seem formal and distant, but underneath all that I really do think he needs some company."

"I'll do my best," I squeezed her hand, before reaching out to hug her. I really would miss her and Mr Carson. It had been nice to feel like a little family, if only for a short time.

"Now you've got my phone number at the cottage and we'll be back to visit for the Grantham Ball in June. Most of the arrangements have already been made for it so you don't need to worry. And remember; just ask Mr Bates if you're unsure of anything."

"I will," I promised, as Mr Carson appeared from the door, carefully storing the last few bags in the front of the van and nodding his head towards me in his usual dignified manner.

"Take care Dear," Mrs Carson smiled, getting into the van and rolling down the window. "We'll telephone as soon as we arrive."

"Drive safe!" I replied, "And thank you for all your help, we really do appreciate it!"

"You're welcome Dear, and remember what I said about Mr Bates!" she raised her voice as the engine started. Then with a final wave from each of them the van trundled off down the driveway and I found myself with the distinct feeling that someone had removed my stabilisers – I was on my own.

I'd scarcely closed the door after Mr and Mrs Carson's departure when my ears were hit by the violent assault of angry teen angst music, wafting down the elegant passageway towards me in a manner which I was sure would have made the former residents of the Abbey turn in their graves. Recognising that it was unlikely that Mr Bates had recently developed a penchant for P!nk's latest album I found myself racing up the stairs towards Holly's room, as much in anger as in terror that Mr Bates would get there before me.

"Enough is enough!" I started before I'd even opened the door fully. She lay prone on her bed, legs crossed at the ankles, hands folded defiantly under her chin. She didn't even look up as I entered, which of course only served to make me angrier.

"Will you switch off that bloody stereo and listen to me?!"

She deigned to glance sideways, reaching out a finger towards the iPod dock as though to turn it off, instead pressing the volume-increase button.

"You little…" I marched across the room, pulling the plug from the wall, met suddenly by blissful silence as P!nk screeched her last profanity for the time being.

"What?!" she challenged me, "D'you want something?"

I could feel my blood boiling, inside my head chanting my mantra over and over _remember you're the adult, remember you're the adult…_ It was moments like this that I felt hopelessly ill-equipped to deal with. Holly was eleven; she wasn't meant to hit the terrible teens for a couple of years yet. I had no idea of the correct response and I wasn't in the right place to deal with her myself.

"You need to turn your music down and start fixing your attitude!" I began, hands on hips, confrontationally. Even as I was yelling I knew my approach was catastrophically flawed.

"I don't see why I should!" she yelled back, "It's not like there's anyone here to bother with it."

"You know fine well that Mr Bates' office is only downstairs, if you keep carrying on like this you're going to get me the sack!"

"So?"

"So, then we'll be out on the street with nowhere to live and nothing to eat!"

"Or…" she replied with controlled sarcasm which only made my anger rocket further, "we could just go home?"

I flopped down on the edge of her bed, head in my hands as a moment of silence filled the air between us.

"You don't get it Holly," I began, "I know you're angry and you don't understand why we're here. But it's not up to you to decide why we left, you just have to respect my decision…"

"Respect your decision!?" she interrupted furiously, "Why should I respect your decision? It's not like you've ever made any decisions before; Dad used to sort out everything! He never did anything that bad to you and now you've made me leave him, and leave school and my friends and come up to this stupid house and start living like we're on some stupid programme on the telly and I'm supposed to just be okay with it. Well I'm not!"

I was crying now, I'd never cried in front of my daughter before that week and here I was doing it again. "Holly I wish you could understand…"

"I understand alright! I've got a stupid mother who made a stupid decision and I wish you'd just leave me alone and let me go back to Guildford!"

The door opened suddenly and we were both stunned into silence by the stony face of Mr Bates.

"I heard a commotion," he offered in typically understated fashion, "I thought perhaps I could be of assistance."

Holly scoffed and I turned to give her my best death-stare, realising Mr Bates had now seen my tear-stained face.

"Miss Smith, I was wondering if you knew where the utility bills were kept, Mrs Carson appears to have forgotten to pass them onto me before she left. Perhaps you could fetch them for me, if you'd be so kind."

"I'm not sure where…" I began.

"If you could just have a quick look for them just now, I'd be very grateful." I realised it wasn't a request so much as a very polite order. I stood up from the bed, trying somewhat futilely to brush off my tears and return my face to some sort of presentable state as I left the room, wondering what on earth Mr Bates could have to say to Holly.

I just hoped to God that she wouldn't yell at _him_.

I'd left the house for a while after that; just wandering around the grounds a bit aimlessly, not really knowing if I should go back inside yet appreciating the time to myself to calm down. It wasn't that I didn't understand Holly's feelings; I just felt hopelessly unable to explain my reasoning to her. I couldn't face telling her that her beloved father was a monster who'd regularly left me black and blue, and that the main reason we'd left was for her own protection. One day we'd have the conversation but at the back of my mind was that as much as she was behaving like a belligerent fifteen year old, she was only eleven; my baby, to be protected and sheltered from the realities of her parents' relationship.

The weather finally made the decision for me, the fine drizzle I'd been steadfastly ignoring, escalating into big fat drops which had me running for the door to escape a soaking. Figuring a cup of tea was in order I headed down the hallway to the kitchen, hoping for a few moments more peace, only to be met by Mr Bates.

"I'm afraid you've caught me out," he smiled, as I hung back at the edge of the kitchen door.

Across the kitchen table I could see him crouched on the floor in front of the washing machine; a packet of soap powder in his hand, the machine stuffed so full it looked like it should burst. With his jeans on and usually scraped-back hair un-styled and a little dishevelled, he suddenly looked like a completely different man to the stern, formal gentleman who'd offered me the job only a week or so earlier. Completely different and about ten years younger, I couldn't help but think to myself.

"Caught you out?"

"Well I was rather hoping that I'd have the opportunity to test out the washing machine by myself before anyone noticed my ineptitude," he smiled wryly.

I shuffled further into the room to stand at the opposite side of the table to where he was crouched, "Have you not used it before?"

"Alas I have not," he shrugged, "Mrs Carson was always so kind as to do my washing for me, but I'm afraid I'm feeling more than a little foolish now."

His self-deprecation was endearing and I couldn't help but find myself relaxing for the first time in his presence since we'd arrived.

"D'you want a hand?"

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble."

I crouched down beside him and opened the door of the machine, "Well first thing's first, you've over-filled the machine; you might want to take about half of that out." I was about to reach in and pull out the clothes, then realised that he might have all manner of clothing inside and stopped myself; the image of his mortified expression as I pulled out his underpants not one I wished to see in reality.

"It's alright, it's only jeans and shirts," he laughed, seemingly reading my mind and reaching into the machine to drag a few items out until the drum was emptier. He closed the door again and I added the soap powder into the drawer, showing him how to set the programme before starting the machine.

"Easy," he grinned, "I'm indebted to you Miss Smith."

"Anna, please…" I laughed, "I know we're living in a centuries old house but honestly, I'd feel much better if you called me by my first name."

"I'm sorry," he laughed, "force of habit. I'll try to fix it, _Anna_," he added, and I couldn't help but give a little shiver as the soft Irish undertones in his voice pronounced my name. "And if I'm to be on first name terms with you then you must call me John; you're right, we're not living in 1912."

"Quite right John," I laughed, as we both stood up.

"So…" I could tell he was about to broach the subject of Holly and suddenly the tension seemed to mount again. "I had a chance to talk to Holly earlier."

"I'm so sorry about all of that," I shook my head, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table and sitting down. He turned away for a moment to fill the kettle then took the chair opposite.

"Please, don't be sorry," the kettle began to bubble and I could tell he was searching for the right words. "I don't mean to pry Anna, really I don't, but I think I've heard one side of the story from Holly and it might be better if you were to fill in the blanks rather than letting me fill them in for myself with only a child's explanation to help me."

He stood up to tend to the kettle and before long I had a steaming mug of tea sitting in front of me and he was back sitting opposite me, mug in hand, leaning back comfortably in the chair.

"I suppose she told you about her father…"

"He was mentioned," he raised his eyebrows, "although I got the feeling you perhaps wouldn't see eye to eye on that one."

I shook my head, tears springing to my eyes, "I'm sorry, forgive me, it's just that I haven't really spoken about it and…"

"Anna," he pulled his chair closer and reached across the table, taking me by surprise by taking my hand in his. "It's not my place to pry and I can see you're not ready to tell me. At the end of the day, you don't know me that well and frankly I don't suppose it's any of my business. But I do want you to know that if you need someone to talk to, I'm here to help. If we're all to live in this house together I'd really like us to be friends."

I blinked back my tears and found myself looking up directly into the surprising warmth of his gaze. "Thank you John, I really do appreciate it. I'd like us to be friends too."

"Then we're all agreed," he smiled, squeezing my hand, "Even Holly. I had a little word with her and we've discussed the volume button on that blasted iPod."

I couldn't help but giggle and the sound of his deeper laugh resonated around the room. Perhaps things weren't looking so bleak after all; at least I had a friend.


End file.
